


Freckles and Sunshine

by Dulcesia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry potter Hogwarts mystery, Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Romance, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:59:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcesia/pseuds/Dulcesia
Summary: A collection of works about some Hogwart Mystery characters.





	1. Second Love (Charlie Weasley x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> I had posted these to my tumblr, so I thought it would be fun to post them to my AO3 account, too.

Anyone who knew Charlie Weasley would say that dragons were his first love. Anyone who was close to him, however, would say that you were his second.

It was obvious in all the little ways; how he would (unsuccessfully) sneak glances at you in the Great Hall, how he would be the first to claim you as his partner in class, how when Bill gave you his Weasley sweater, Charlie sulked for days. Then, when Christmas rolled around, he gave you his sweater. He never told you to wear it, and Rowan was the only one who knew that you wore it to bed.

Did you love him back? Maybe. Rowan and Penny seemed to think so, and Andre swore the two of you had a thing. If you did have something, you and Charlie kept it secret, for all of Hogwarts was always watching Jacob’s strange sibling. However, all the evidence seemed to point to one conclusion. You wore his shirts and jackets constantly (because they were comfortable, you claimed). You would sneak out in the evenings with him to “discuss matters of grave importance,” though Tulip said she once saw the two of you holding hands by the lake. And when you jokingly kissed every one of your friends’ cheeks under the mistletoe one Christmas, did your lips linger a bit longer on Charlie’s cheek…? He blushed enough for everyone to believe it.

He loved you. And maybe you loved him back. No one could ask Charlie, and no one could ask you, not anymore, not after what happened in seventh year. It was too hard to ask him once you died, and you, certainly, were in no position to say what was true and what was not. 

With his second love gone, Charlie poured all his attention back into his first. He ran to Romania as soon as he could, brushing aside the worries of his family and friends. No matter how much Molly pleaded for him to wait, and no matter how much Ben cried of the dangers, he left. The call of the dragons was like a siren’s song, and he was unable to resist any longer.

Dragons, dragons, dragons. He had no time for anything but dragons, now. He dove deep into his work, to the point that he forgot to write to his family for weeks. Romance and marriage were dreams that no longer belonged to him. The glances that hopeful girls and boys gave him on the streets or at his job sparked nothing in him. They were not the sort of glances he wanted, and not the sort of people he wanted them from.

“Are you happy?” Bill had asked him once, when Charlie had made a visit back to the Burrow.

“Yes,” Charlie had replied, without hesitation. How could he not be, chasing his dreams in misty forests and craggy mountains? Living out his days among rustling wings and scales, hatching eggs tenderly over a stove-top fire?

Bill said nothing, though he knew the truth as well as his brother did. You may have been his second love, but you were also his last.


	2. Amortentia (Charlie Weasley x Reader)

The hallways are mostly empty at this time of morning, with only the occasional murmur from a passing student or ghost to break the silence. Soft light falls from the tall windows, muted and dim. The castle is slow to wake and start the day, making you feel lethargic.

You usually meet up with Charlie before breakfast to sneak in a few minutes of chatting before heading to the Great Hall. This time, however, he had pulled you into a secluded corner, hidden by a statue and well out of view. There, he had simply held you in his arms for a moment, resting his head on your shoulder as you played with his ponytail. “Recharging,” he called it, as if simply being by your side gave him the energy he needed to get through the day.

You understood. Sometimes, after all the adventures and near-death experiences, it was nice to let time run like an abundance of golden coins through your fingers, something that you had more than enough of to use and waste and luxuriate in.

Things might have just been left at a tender embrace. But, well, perhaps he had began planting kisses all over your face. And then you might’ve started sneakily pressing kisses onto his lips. And there was the smallest possibility that he had begun kissing at your neck, and it was too nice of a feeling to resist.

“We need to get breakfast,” you mumble, letting out a soft, fluttering sigh.

“In a bit,” he says, between kisses.

You really didn’t have that much of a desire to make him stop, but you knew your friends would wonder where you were. Besides, you didn’t want to go to class hungry.

“Charlie,” you say, more sternly.

“All right,” he says, and looks up. You sneak one last kiss on his lips as he does so.

You shake your head and run your fingers through your hair as you step into the corridor. “Let’s head out. Merlin, I hope I remembered my Transfiguration notes, or I’ll have to borrow Rowan’s–” 

“Wait!” Charlie suddenly grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Charlie, as much as I’d love to continue what we were doing, I really do think we need to go get breakfast.”

“No, it’s not that–” A blush stains his cheeks and the tip of his ears. He raises a hand and touches your neck gently. His fingers are cool as he taps a spot on the side of your neck.

“What?”

“I think I– Um, that is– There’s something on your neck.”

The realization hits you all at once. “Oh.  _ Oh _ . Don’t tell me it’s–”

“Yeah, it is.” Charlie drops his hand to rub at his top lip nervously. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I think I got a little carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell told him, though your mind is spiking with panic. You had no strong desire to let everyone know just how good of a kisser Charlie Weasley could be. “I’ll need to find a way to cover it. Perhaps I have enough time to run to get a bandage, or…”

Silence reigns as the two of you struggle to think of a solution, before Charlie’s eyes light up.

“Ah, wait. I have an idea.” He reaches into his robes and pulls out a worn, well-loved scarf. It’s red and gold, and a bit frayed at the ends. You recognize it as his; he wears it all the time when he gets into snowball fights with Andre and Tonks. He hands it to you sheepishly. “I just remembered I left that in there.”

“That’s lucky,” you say, winding the scarf tightly around your neck. It’d look a bit odd, but it was miles better than parading a hickey around.

“It looks great,” Charlie says, a bit of smugness in his voice.

You roll your eyes. “That’s what you say whenever I wear anything that belongs to you.”

“I’m just saying, my clothes look good on you.”

You hold out your hand and he takes it. His hands are rough, calloused and strong from all his Quidditch playing. You know firsthand how tough and fervent he can be, yet it’s hard to tell when he touches you so gently. 

You’re smiling softly to yourself as you think all of this, and Charlie tilts his head as he regards you. “What’re you think about?”

“Just how much I love you.”

“Hm? Well, I love you, too.”

“Oh, I know,” you tease, motioning to your neck with your free hand. Charlie blushes. 

-

“(y/n), I understand the urge to wear your boyfriend’s clothes, but I think that scarf would look better if you pulled it down a little,” Andre says as he bites into a muffin. “Here, I can help arrange it so it looks nice–”

“No! No, thank you,” you say with a yelp, drawing away from his outstretched hand. “I think I’ll just keep Charlie’s scarf on. For the rest of the day. So you don’t need to try to fix it, thanks.”

“Oh?” Andre grins, and you swear you can see his mind turning. “I understand. But next time  _ this  _ happens, I better not see such awful color coordination from you.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Barnaby pipes up, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Nothing important. Just something about poor life choices,” you hastily say as Andre snorts.


	3. Lemonade (Barnaby Lee x Reader)

The lemonade you taste on his mouth is as sweet as the boy you’re kissing.

His eyes are a lovely, vivid green, and you admire them as Barnaby pulls back, breathless. He rests his forehead against yours as you take a moment to drink in his flushed face. His arms are around you, pulling you as close against his body as he can. You run a hand through his soft, silky locks.

“I adore you,” you mumble.

Barnaby’s cheeks turn a dark red. He burrows his head against your shoulder, and you know without words that he adores you, too.

Summer days, lemonade days, they pass by too quickly for your liking. You have eternity, but you’re not sure if you can have Barnaby by your side for eternity. 

But oh, you hope you did, you hope you did.

Eternity, or your wish for it, was bitterly short. Barnaby disappeared as soon as you graduate from Hogwarts, and no owl or message you sent returned with a reply.

Years pass and time marches on, but the press of his lips and the taste of lemonade still lingers in your mind.

And suddenly, you see him again, in the most unexpected of places. Death flies around in green bursts of light, and the steps of Hogwarts are slick with blood, and yet, you cannot help yourself. 

You stop at the sight of him, and it feels bitterly unfair. Suddenly, you’re 16 again, the world at your fingertips, love overflowing in your heart.

Barnaby is older, his hair longer. His eyes are haunted, and the innocent, curious gleam they once held is gone. But somehow, he is still as beautiful as the day you first saw him.

He raises his wand; you tense, and he sends a stunning spell at someone who topples behind you.

“Hello,” he says, breathless.

“Hello yourself,” you reply.

“I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“I know, I know.” Your voice is rawer than you want it to be.

There is no time for this. There has never been enough time, and you wish you could touch him once more.

But he is in dark robes and there is a mark on his arm, one you do not want to examine too closely.

“(y/n)!” Charlie calls. He’s farther down the stairs, with Rowan aiming spells left and right by his side. Andre is diving at Death Eaters on his broom, Tulip at the back, throwing stink bombs down below.

They have not seen Barnaby yet. 

You turn back quickly, and he’s pulling the hood over his head. He has seen them, too.

_ Wait _ , you want to call.  _ Wait _ . But he cannot. You cannot. He is no longer yours, and you are no longer his. 

This is not the path he would have chosen for himself. This was something ugly and bitter forced upon him, a twisted family legacy sinking its claws in his heart. And yet, it cannot change the fact he is still your enemy, and you are his.

So, you do what you must. You banish all thoughts of him from your head. You put Barnaby back among those vibrant summer days, and raise your wand to fight alongside your friends.

It is only after the battle, when friends have become numbers in a war, that you take the time to think of Barnaby.

He was your first love. He  _ is  _ your first love. You did not see his bodies among the countless that filled the Great Hall, though the knowledge brings little comfort.

“It’ll be okay,” Penny whispers desperately as you hug her, nerves frayed, head numb.

And it would be okay, it would.

You close your eyes. Barnaby could only ever be a memory, a memory of lemonade and summer days.

_ Good-bye. _


	4. Amortentia (Charlie Weasley x Reader)

“Okay, confess. Why does this entire table smell so strongly?”

Your friends glance at one another, then shrug. Rowan is the only one with the decency to sniff at the air, soup spoon paused midway to her mouth.

“(y/n) is right. It smells like… like…” She gives one quick glance at Bill, who’s too busy chatting with Andre to notice. “... It smells good, that’s all.”

If there was a strange smell in the air, the only possible place it could come from was your two favorite pranksters. You turn to Tonks and Tulip with suspicion in your gaze. Tulip’s too busy reading and eating a salad to do more than wave a hand at you. Tonks perks up immediately, her gaze sparkling with interest.

“What do you smell, (y/n)?”

“It smells like someone I know.”

Penny looks up, a forkful of cake falling onto her plate. “Who?”

Your eyebrows wrinkle a bit in her sudden invested interest. She’s not the only one who’s acting strangely. Charlie tries not to turn his head, though his ears become red, and Barnaby settles with staring at you with wide-opened eyes.

“Uhhh…”

“Someone at this table, maybe?” Penny presses, food forgotten.

“I think so.”

“Anyone in particular?” Ben asks suddenly, head down but aimed in your general direction.

You pause. Bill and Andre seem to have forgotten their conversation to focus on you, and even Tulip puts her book down.

“Geez, guys, I don’t know why you’re all so interested in this weird smell… But uh….”

You sniff the air, trying to place the familiar scent. It’s like a half-forgotten memory pressing at the edges of your mind. You close your eyes. You think of Quidditch fields, screaming crowds and cheering students, the whistles of Madam Hooch and the grass that stains the players… The sweet flowers that creep and crawl around the Burrow, where you’ve spent countless vacations at, the sun warm on your back and a faint breeze stirring the petals….

“It smells like grass, and flowers… honeysuckle, I think?” you say, eyes still closed. “Oh… Charlie! It smells exactly like Charlie!” Your eyes pop open, and you point an accusing finger at your friend. 

Andre gives a low whistle. “Charlie? Are you sure?”

“Yes! I don’t know why it’s so strong today. Charlie, if you’re wearing some kind of magic cologne, I’d recommend you tone it down! It’s nice, but it’s just way too strong.”

Charlie can hardly look you in the face. His ears are so red they almost disappear into his hair. Bill nudges his shoulder, and he pops up, eyes wide. His freckles have almost vanished into his blush.

“Hello? Charlie? Did you hear me? I said your cologne is way too strong.” You throw a pea at your friend, and instead of laughing or dodging, Charlie lets it bounce off his shoulder.

“I heard you,” he mumbles.

“Okay?”

“He’s embarrassed,” Tonks supplies. 

“Why? Should I not have called out his cologne in front of everyone?”

“No, it’s just…” Tonks looks around at your friends before continuing. “We were brewing amortentia today. And Tulip and I might have snuck a bottle out for innocent, non-nefarious purposes…”

“Amortentia?” You wonder, idly, if the cursed ice is still active, and whether it’s possible to freeze yourself for the rest of the school year. Your friends’ interest in the smell is starting to make horrifying sense.

“Yes, amortentia. The love potion? Smells like the person you love the most in the world?” Tulip says dryly.

“And uh… that’s maybe what you’ve been smelling.”

You take a deep breath, hoping your face isn’t as red as you feel it is. “So… I just… basically… I told everyone at this entire table who I like.”

“Yup!” Tonks says.

“If it helps, Charlie also smelled your scent when he was brewing the potion,” Andre adds helpfully. Charlie jabs him in the side with an elbow, burying his face in his hands. “What? Your feelings are mutual, you dolt.”

Is it possible for a human to short circuit from trying to process so many emotions? You’re probably testing the boundaries at the moment. There’s only one particular thing you want-- you need-- to concentrate at the moment. You stand, and beckon Charlie to follow you, trying to ignore the murmurs that erupt at the table as you do so.

“Do you… really like me?” you mumble, striding down a, empty, sunlit hallway as fast as you can.

“Do you like me?” he challenges, matching your fast steps.

“I asked first, but yes! I… I absolutely adore you, Charlie Weasley.”

He starts speeding ahead. “Ah, well… good thing I like you, too, huh?”

At the rate the two of you are going, you’re going to circle around the castle twice with time to spare to make it to Transfiguration. You decide not to test it, and stop. The narrow corridor is full of paintings, whose inhabitants are watching you and Charlie curiously. Torchlight lights up rough hewn stone walls and smoother floors.

You’re both quiet, struggling to speak, when Charlie sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t how I was going to tell you.”

“What?”

“I had this whole idea for confessing: I would send you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and lead you on a  scavenger hunt through the entire castle with dragon trivia, and at the end…”

“You would confess?”

He looks at you. “Yeah. Bill said it was too complicated, but I thought you’d like it…”

“I would. I do.” You wheel around to face him, so his back is pressed to the wall. “If you still want to do it, I’d be honored to follow through. I haven’t spent all that time listening you to talk about Norwegian Ridgebacks for nothing. I’ll just pretend I don’t know what the grand prize is.”

He chuckles lightly. “Sounds good! Expect a mysterious bouquet from a charming secret admirer sometime next week.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, wow, I hope my secret admirer is my crush, a red-haired dragon fanatic! It’s probably too much of a stretch, though. He’s a huge dork and I doubt he likes me back.”

“Dork?”

“I’m pretty sure my crush loves dragons more than he loves me.”

“Not true! I can verify that he likes you AND dragons an equal amount!”

Charlie lets out a breath, and you’re close enough to feel it against your nose. You can count each freckle spattered across his face, a constellation of dots that you can make out against his blush. His eyes are warm and luminous and brown.

“Really?”

“Yes. Most likely.” Charlie’s hand reaches up to cup your face, and you can feel each lovely callous from his Quidditch practice. His thumb hovers above your lips hesitantly, as if asking for permission.

You loop your arms around his neck, leaning forward. There’s only a bit of space between the two of you. His other arm curls around your back protectively.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask. 

“Yes.” It is less of a word and more of a breath, but it’s enough.

His lips taste like jam cookies he was munching on during lunch. Sweet and full, his touch is gentle, as if he’s handling the most precious thing in the world. It’s awkward, but it’s the right kind of awkward, the kind that always accompanies first kisses with people you love.

You pull back, slightly breathless, and run your fingers over his freckles. “You know, I really hope that my grand prize for my scavenger hunt is a kiss from my secret admirer. Maybe even a cuddle, if I’m lucky.” 

“Mmm, maybe that can be arranged.” He leans in until your noses bump against each other.

“Charlie, I just realized.”

“What?”

“We owe Tonks and Tulip for helping us get together.”

He groans, and you can’t help but laugh. Owing those two something was a dangerous thing indeed. For now, you would just enjoy being wrapped in his arms, sneaking kisses as long as you could before class started.


End file.
